


We Created Monsters

by avoidfilledwithcelluloid



Category: Hannibal (TV), Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Eventual Sex, F/F, F/M, Giant Robots Fighting Alien Monsters, Implied Incest, M/M, Pacific Rim AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:30:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avoidfilledwithcelluloid/pseuds/avoidfilledwithcelluloid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know," she said as Will opened his eyes again, "I never imagined this in the future. We're fighting monsters Will. We're fighting Godzillas and we're fighting them in fucking robots. If you had told me when I was still a lab assistant that someday I would be knee deep in alien guts and fighting people to get the right to drift with that same alien's brain, I would have fucking laughed in your face."</p>
<p>Pacific Rim AU fill from hannibalkink</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Created Monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. I wrote this in a fury of robot related joy and am filling this prompt:
> 
> http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org/2676.html?thread=4784756#cmt4784756
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoy!

Will was already shaking when he pushed his way through the crowd of engineers and into the elevator. He ran a hand through his hair, the other one clutching at his thigh. Every breath felt like it was an obstacle, a challenge to breathe back in and out.

_This can't be happening,_ he thought, eyes wide and trained on the iron doors in front of him, _He can't ask me to pilot again._

"Excuse me," an accented voice came from the space next to Will, jolting him out of his mind and into the elevator, "Are you Will Graham?"

Will laughed defensively and nodded. His lips twitched with the urge to growl.

"Yeah," he said, not bothering to look at the voice's owner, "That's me. Will Graham, the most compatible drifter in the program's history and the most broken toy in this fucking sandbox. You found me. You want to ask me a fucking question, maybe tell me about how you've always wanted to ride with me? I've gotten every reaction in the book so hit me. Hit me with whatever you've got."

There was an amused huff and then the voice reached out and touched Will's arm. He nearly jerked himself into the wall trying to get away from the hand.

"You shouldn't be afraid," the voice said, "I'm not going to ask you any questions or give you any tales of my own desires. I was merely making sure."

Will looked sharply at the voice's owner and stumbled. The man was tall, though not incredibly taller than Will himself, and broad shouldered. His face was angular, boasting cruel lips, maroon eyes and a jagged thin scar down the left cheek. He looked dressed to the nines, unusual attire for the Shatterdome. A patterned suit of deep blue with a neat oxford underneath a silk indigo vest and a bright gold tie knotted in a full Windsor. His shoes were shined. Will could see his own face reflected in them when he looked down, his shaggy beard and uncontrolled wardrobe.

He was standing next to Hannibal Lecter, the last pilot to be inside a Mark 3 Jaeger. Will gulped, fists still clenching and un-clenching.

"I," he started, still caught up in recognizing Lecter, "I didn't realize Crawford had you back too. I thought you went off the grid."

Lecter smiled and his teeth were sharp.

"I did." He said, big hands folding together in front of him, "But when Jack Crawford asks you to help save the world, how can one refuse?"

His eyes held a conspiring glint to them. Will nodded but looked at the opposite wall instead of Lecter's face.

The elevator stopped, hitting the brakes harshly so as to send both men stumbling for balance. The doors slid open and the smell of metal and sea salt hit Will's nose immediately.

A woman stood at the entrance of the elevator, hip cocked to the side with one hand resting on it while the other one gripped a clipboard. She had sunglasses holding back dark hair and a cocky smile on her lips. It grew wider when she saw Will.

"Will," she exclaimed, reaching out a hand for him to shake, "Long time no see huh?"

"Bev," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it, "You look exactly the same."

"I expect that I do," Beverly said as she turned around and started inward, "Thanks for not mentioning the bags under my eyes or the wrinkles. It's good to see you've still got the same charm 4 years later."

Will smiled softly. Beside him he felt Lecter cast a curious look at the other pilot. Lecter's stride was measured and quick. Will's shorter legs burned as he tried to compensate for the difference in pace. All around them were teams of engineers, welders and other various workers climbing on jaegers and zipping around the dome's floor. Will stumbled into a few disgruntled workers, mumbled apologies and tried not to gawk.

Gazing up at the towering machines had always made Will feel in a freefall. Something so huge shouldn't have been able to be controlled by such a small, insignificant sort of man like himself. It seemed unnatural but then again, what was natural in this world anymore after the rift had opened?

"I see you checking out the robots there Will." Beverly grinned back at him, her eyes practically a glow with pride, "What we've got here are the last Jaegers we could salvage. If you look over here, that's on your side Dr. Lecter, you've got Iron Hawk. That there is the last Mark 4 from America piloted by Jimmy Price and Brian Zeller. It's got the biggest plasma canon this side of the hemisphere or really any side of the hemisphere now I guess. My favorite part though is that fucking paint job. Green and yellow with diagonal stripes on the chest piece? Classic.

"Over on my right we've got Krasnyj Alpha, piloted by Freddie Lounds and Wendy City. Two of the most despicable humans I've ever met, but excellent pilots and their drift compatibility is perfect. Alpha's a beast, a Mark 2 straight out of Russia. She's taken a lot of hits, but this baby is firing on all cylinders. You got spinning blades on both arms and if that don't take out the kaiju then there's a nasty sonic canon in the chest hull that's pretty fuckin' powerful. The red isn't my favorite, but no one wants to fight Freddie on that. You choose your battles with her.

"And here," she said, coming to a stop in front of the third and last Jaeger, "Is Demon Wolf."

"Oh." Lecter breathed out.

Demon Wolf stood as tall as it had the last time it had been ridden. Will gaped unabashedly up at the monster of a machine. Sleek black metal from head to toe with a surprise of yellow coming from the nuclear core bursting from the chest. There were battle scars all across the body, scratches that told the story of a machine that had seen things, had seen fights and had held its own. The head was flat topped with a honey-comb style view screen. Crimson decals striped the black making it look like dried blood was streaking the hull. From where Will stood, the rear panels crested over the head and looked like huge antlers, gnarled from repeated beatings. Each arm was equipped with long thick blades, now retracted into the forearm. Even sheathed they looked fearsome, sharp edges still stained with faded kaiju blue.

Will turned to look at Lecter and found him standing still, hands clasped behind his back. His gaze was upward and if Will looked closely he could see the man had tears in his eyes. Will quickly turned back around. It felt inappropriate to see such a private moment, especially with a man he'd only just met. Something told Will that Lecter didn't feel emotions often, or at least, genuine emotion. He stared at his own scuffed loafers. Nothing reflected back at him.

"Yeah yeah," Beverly said, unable to chase the awe out of her voice, "She's a beaut. I knew you'd like to see her before we got back to Jack Dr. Lecter."

Lecter gave Beverly a watery smile and reached out. His hand touched the machine reverently, fingers caressing the metal like an old friend.

"I've missed her."

After the short tour, Beverly guided the two men down to the Commander's office. The door swung open and out stepped Jack Crawford. His presence was equal to that of his rank. He was wearing a crisp uniform and the medals pinned to his breast were colorful and shiny. He held his arms rigidly at his side.

Nodding first to Lecter and then to Will, he gestured into his office.

"Gentlemen," Jack began as they stepped inside the spacious room, "I am glad to have you with us."

"Not like we had much choice." Will spat out before he could stop himself. Jack gave him a cold look and Will hunched further into himself. He could feel Lecter watching him and wished dearly that he could be anywhere but here. One last squint and Jack moved on, walking toward the large window at the other end of the room.

"You've been asked back into the Jaeger program not because you are the best," he said, voice booming off the walls, "But because you are both the last of your kind. Dr. Lecter is the last of the Mark 3 pilots alive and Will, Will you are the only one I've ever seen able to achieve drift compatibility with any pilot. You have the kind of flexibility we need now."  
Jack turned and faced both men. His eyes sized them up and under his gaze Will's skin prickled. He'd always hated this part, the feeling of being analyzed before he even stepped into the Jaeger. Lecter, for his part, didn't seem to care about how Jack saw him. His posture stayed casually dominate, legs spread in a solid stance that clearly stated what he was there for.

"Both of you," he continued, "Are to report tomorrow morning at the ground floor to begin drift run through tests with Nightmare. Is that clear?"

Both men simultaneously shouted out a yessir. The set of Jack's lips was grave. There was no room for interpretation of the situation.

"The apocalypse is upon us gentlemen," he said, "And the people in this dome right here? We're the ones who are going to stop it."

The next morning found Will drowsy and still rubbing sleep from his eyes when he made it to the ground floor. He stood, bleary, in the center of all the activity going on around him until Beverly pulled him aside by his arm. Blinking slowly, he accepted the coffee cup she shoved in his hands and drank from it. Bitter, he bemoaned to himself, and over roasted. Complaining about coffee had become a habit for him during his time off the base and in the classroom. It would take a while to relearn poor food tolerance.

If he even had the time to relearn. What a bitter thought indeed.

"I got excited when I heard Crawford was getting you back," Beverly chattered, drinking from her own mug, "You were the only one that actually listen to my research on kaiju dna replication. Everyone else just thought I was some sort of mad scientist, a crazy woman."

"Bev," he said fondly, making brief eye contact with the woman, "You know as well as I do that your work is what's make the strike back possible."

"Yeah," she said, shifting her stance to the side in a nervous fashion, "Not everyone feels that way."

Will closed his eyes and bowed his head, letting amicable silence fill the space between them. The sparks from the soldering near them made bright lights appear beneath Will's eye lids. Beverly was humming an old Doors tune.

"You know," she said as Will opened his eyes again, "I never imagined this in the future. We're fighting monsters Will. We're fighting Godzillas and we're fighting them in fucking robots. If you had told me when I was still a lab assistant that someday I would be knee deep in alien guts and fighting people to get the right to drift with that same alien's brain, I would have fucking laughed in your face."

She made a clicking noise with her tongue and shook her head. Will watched her, face glowing in the industrial lighting. Her coverall sleeves were rolled up, revealing her full sleeve tattoos of various kaiju. Beautiful and brightly colored, they moved along with her arms like the monsters themselves were alive and writhing. If Will hadn't know her better, he would have thought the tattoos were a symbol of admiration instead of permanent reminders of her life's work.

Doctor Beverly Katz, the only person to ever drift with a kaiju brain and live. He could remember her before, younger and angrier, yelling at Jack Crawford that her work was the only thing between the program and destruction. It was impossible not to fall a little in love with her in those moments, the sheer brilliance that burst from her as she fought for the world in her little corner of it. Her only medal of honor was her blood shot right eye and the ever present headaches that came with drifting alone.

She had drunkenly told him one night about the experience. Her head was perpetually floating between her own thoughts and the kaiju's. Beverly had looked at him, blood shot eye wet with tears, and said in a firm voice that she expected consequences.

"The connection goes both ways," she said, fingers shaking on her tumbler of whiskey, "It's only a matter of time before they start moving toward us Will. It's like a time bomb above my head, waiting until we're at our weakest."

The resigned tone of her voice had chilled Will to the bone and the feeling returned as he watched her now. He could see it in her body language; that time bomb was still ticking in her brain.

From behind he could hear a commotion and when he turned Will saw a group of engineers clamoring around someone. The person raised their voice and Will frowned. He knew that voice, lazily accented and deep, asking everyone to please move out of his way.

"Good morning Will," Lecter said, moving past the crowd to nod at Will and Beverly, "Dr. Katz."

"Morning Dr. Lecter," Beverly said, raising her mug toward Lecter, "Sleep well?"

"As well as expected." He looked well rested, hair slicked back and face fresh. It was odd to see him now in a standard issue tank top and tear away pants. Certainly the change of attire made Lecter's muscularity more visible. His broad shoulders gave way to leanly muscled biceps and forearms and his torso tapered to where his prominent hip bones jutted against the elastic waistband of his pants. Very little was concealed by the tank top, the contours of his strong chest amply shown off by the ribbed fabric. Will made an effort not to stare. Lecter was probably used to long looks with his physique but Will had no plans to add himself to the other pilot's long list of admirers.

Instead, Will thought benignly of his own appearance. He was nothing to sneeze at, strong and slight in a way that filled out a battle suit well. Unfortunately, his stature made it difficult to command the sort of presence men like Lecter and Crawford did. He had a habit of deferring to authoritative people, averting his gaze and making his body language open instead of the tight way some other pilots held themselves. While he expected that he had his own following fawning over his visage, it probably had nothing on Lecter's. The man quite frankly made Will feel inadequate.

_A good start for drift compatibility,_ Will thought sarcastically as their group of three headed toward where the other pilots were gathering, _Feelings of inadequacy and lust filled thoughts. This is going work out great._

At the head of the cluster of pilots was a woman with fiery curls cascading down her back. This must have been the infamous Freddie Lounds. She was leaning over and whispering to the blonde woman next to her, hand placed possessively at the small of the woman's back. When she looked back at him, Will was surprised by the severity of her face. Big bright eyes darted all over Will's body, taking everything in, and high cheekbones that reminded him of Lecter's stretched her pale skin, making her cheeks look hollow.  
She narrowed her eyes and gave Will a dirty look.

"Hello Will," she said, voice syrupy, "It's so nice to see you back here after all those years. You did have quite the exit didn't you? Tell me truthfully, what did you do all those years while we were keeping the monsters at bay?"

Will gritted his teeth. "Teaching," he spat out.

"Molding the minds of tomorrow," Freddie said, eyes dancing with the promise of a fight, "I wonder how those students felt being taught by a deserter."

Biting back a growl, Will started to lunge forward without thinking and instantly a hand grabbed his shoulder. Beverly pulled him back to her side and Lecter smoothly stepped in front of him. He wasn't blocking Will but he was just ahead of him enough to send a message of protection. Will wanted to scream at the idea that he needed protection from the red haired woman but couldn't help the curious feeling of interest that welled in his chest as Lecter moved back with them.

"Don't pay attention to Freddie," Beverly whispered in his ear as they moved back in the crowd of people staring, "She's got a sharp tongue. Just watch out for it okay? The Tattler hasn't lost a fight in a long time and Freddie's the kind of person who lets that shit go to her head."

Will nodded, not taking his eyes off Freddie and her co-pilot. He was so focused that he didn't notice the men behind him until Beverly shook his shoulder. He backed up and looked at the other team. Two men, one shorter and friendly looking and the other taller one with thick black hair, a beard and a frown fixed on his face.

"Sorry, sorry," he said, "I was a little distracted."

"You're okay kid," the shorter of the two men said, "Most people can't keep their cool around Freddie. She's got a bad habit of pushing buttons."

He held out his hand for Will to shake. "Name's Price, Jimmy Price. This strapping fellow next to me is Brian Zeller, my co-pilot."

"I thought we agreed you were my co-pilot Price." Brian's voice was testy but when he looked at his co-pilot Will could see his eyes were soft.

"Semantics," Jimmy said, grinning, "We'll have to fight it out later Zeller."

Brian snorted and Will felt himself relax a bit. His body had felt tense from the minute he come to the Shatterdome but the comradery between the other pilots set him at ease. Even Freddie and Wendy, casually intimate in how they were touching and talking to each other, was comforting in a way that civilian life had not been. Will had dealt with silence and now suddenly the ache to fill the void returned. His mind was tugging at him, the drift still singing in his bones the way it had years before.

He glanced at Lecter. His face was un-readable. Will almost wanted to ask if he felt the same way, if the lopsidedness of it all was getting to Lecter the way it was for Will.

Unbidden want filled up Will's throat. He wanted, no, needed to get in Lecter's head. The urge to figure out the puzzle started itching in his fingers the way it never had before.

Previous co-pilots had been easy matches, simple fits to the grooves of his mind and theirs. Lecter would be a challenge.

Will hadn't had a challenge in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me at [avoidfilledwithcelluloid](http://avoidfilledwithcelluloid.tumblr.com) on tumblr


End file.
